The Carrying Arms
by R. P. Ily-Ika
Summary: "We're terrified of one another, terrified of what that means."
1. Preface

This is the first time I've ever written in first person and had it publicly read. Sorry if it's kind of crappy. I don't own anything but a few characters and the story.

Warning: heavy cussing...for the rest of the book. And some questionable scenes that I can't specify what they are or possibly could be.

Summary: Pogue recounts the events leading up to the "uprooting", an event directly relating to a carefree and mysterious girl he meets under strange circumstances.

...

2 days after

I was livid. With my face tainted red and sweat protruding out from every pore of my body, I was ready to _decimate _Reid Garwin. That fucking twat.

"Just because you couldn't do it, Perry, doesn't mean you have to soil it for the rest of us!" Reid yelled, knowing damn well I was going to tear him apart as his comment ended the rest of my sanity.

Caleb-the fucking angel-was in front of me then, blocking me from my main goal. His hands shifted from pushing against my heaving chest, or struggling to get my arms down and away from Reid.

Tyler was in a similar position, but Reid _needed _Tyler to be able to keep up his bad boy act up. Jumping and attacking from behind baby boy.

I, on the other hand, struggled to free myself from the wall Caleb had become. Behind him I felt like animal, so savage and untamed. But the pretty boy wouldn't let me bury my fists into the cock-sucker's skin, he wouldn't let me draw blood and have that ass beg for mercy. He just couldn't let me shut up that little fucker.

"Pogue, calm down!" He said harshly as I thrashed around, his hold was loosening.

"Yeah, calm down, Pogue! Isn't that why she's gone?" Reid taunted.

I lost it. I completely lost it.


	2. Chapter 1

182 days before

Maybe it was the lack of sleep that caused me to be delirious, but I could have sworn that the numbers were moving on my math page. The black curved ink drops were vibrating and slowly shifting from one side of the white page to the other. It was eye catchingly beautiful.

My eyes shifted to the sound of a pencil being dragged across a page too quickly and continuisly, capturing my easily distracted mind and forcing my eyes to wander over the to the culprit. The swift strokes she used with her pencil made my eyes widen, her drawing looked perfect.

It wasn't a stupid, ratty sketch. No, this was different. She had created a person with a too-pointed chin and hair that looked more like an ice cream scoop than actual hair. It was a perfect cartooned version of a person.

She didn't pay attention to the class and it seemed like she didn't care for much of anything having to do with anything besides that drawing. It lured me in with it's sireness calls and I couldn't remove my eyes from it. All the imperfections made it even more captivating for me.

Shit. I'm tripping balls.

"How high are you?" Caleb asked, finally snapping my attention at something other than numbers and cartoon characters.

I lulled my head over to him, "I'm not high."

He gave me a look that almost made me laugh out loud. Almost. Instead it came out like a strangled noise that barely anyone cared to see who had made it.

"Seriously?" He asked.

"Seriously. I'm just- I'm just- I'm just

"You're just what?" He asked calmly, almost as if he were talking to a six year old.

"Sleep deprived," I managed to say.

"You need some serious sleep, all that late night bike riding is catching up to you, man."

"Tell Kate to stop visiting my dreams and maybe I'll think about sleeping more."

Caleb stiffened as the name passed through my lips. None of the others thought I was sane enough to speak her name. But they didn't understand, they couldn't understand.

"Pogue, I-

"Forget it," I mumbled and the bell saved me from having to explain things even further.

I walked slowly past the drawing, taking in it's awesomeness before I left the classroom and into the next one. Now I'd have to deal with all of the Sons of Ipswich, me included.

I couldn't stand myself right now, let alone other people. They were being fucking pussies about the whole situation, honestly. Kate had left me. Big. Fucking. Deal.

The only problem with her departure were the dreams. Those damn dreams..

"Seriously, if you want to pass, you have to pay attention, Pogue. I'm not doing another one of your essays," Tyler chimes in. Of course, baby boy has balls now. Fucking great.

"Oh, get over youself, Ty. It's not like your essays are amazing or anything."

I shouldn't insult him. I shouldn't take out my frustrations on him, but I can't find empathy within my heart. Kate made sure of that, she made sure I wouldn't be able to feel a fucking thing when she left.

"Who wrote the Illiad, Mr. Perry?"

Shit. The silence engulfed me, hundreds of pairs of eyes were on me. The longer I stalled, the wider the teacher's smile spread.

"Homer, Mr. Perry. It was Homer."

"Man, I love that guy. The way he eats donuts, sleeps at work, gets laid, chokes his kids, yep. He's living the good life," Reid spoke up. Badboy to the rescue.

"No, Mister Garwin, Homer as in the man who created the Illiad and the Oddessy."

I don't honestly care about who wrote it. I don't care if I pass his damn English class. I honestly can't even think about what I do care anymore...oh, that's right: Kate.

…...

Breathe in and out. In and out. It's the same fucking thing I've done since I was in the womb, why would I struggle to do it now? Why could oxygen not reach my lungs? Why was I drowning when I wasn't even in water.

"Pogue!" Caleb's in my ear, he's like a determined fly that won't be swatted away.

"I'm fine!"

Standing up, the feeling to get out of this room hits me. Months later and her scent is still in that room. She's everywhere in that room and I can't fucking breathe. Grabbing my motorcycle's keys, I walk out of the room, reaching for my shoes as I walk on.

They slip on quickly without any need of tying them, not until I reach my bike. But something's off. I can feel the electricity in the air shift.

"God! Why can't you fucking be normal?" A girl scream penetrates the sound barriers.

Curiousity and oxygen deprevation force my feet to walk towards the open door where the girl had just ran out from. I'm a few feet away when another girl, a topless one, walks out and looks out the hallway.

"Did she leave?" She asks simply, as if she's not speaking to me without being half naked.

I swallow the lump in my throat, the curvuture of her breasts slightly bouncing with every breath she makes catches my attention. It was wrong, I knew that, but she didn't seem to mind...maybe, I don't really know.

"You're that angry guy in my math class, aren't you?" Her lower soprano tone interrupts my gawking and I look into her eyes.

She's that artist chick...Frieda, Sylvia?

"I'm not angry."

"Wrong person then," she says with a smile and turns to leave but then turns, behind her is the largest canvas I've ever seen and dark images painted on it. "If you see the screaming chick, tell her to not bother coming back seeing that I won't stop being a "freak". Thanks." She swings the door closed on me. Maybe I shouldv'e known then.

I wish I had known then what would become of me. I wish I could take it back and never have that fucking panic attack. I wish so many things, but the one thing I wish is to have never met the artist chick: Sofie Silberman.


	3. Chapter 2

181 days before

I have these dreams, these dreams that feel too fucking real. Kate's in them, well, most of them. Sometimes they're crazy and sick and they leave me feeling disgusted and scared, those are the nightmares, in a way; but I can handle those. It's the nice ones that really get me. It's seeing Kate happy, it's seeing her with me in my dreams that have me waking up in the middle of the night with a panic attack, those close my airways. Those dreams are what won't let me breathe.

She's interrupts my thoughts with her loud heels clacking on the wooden floor, the teacher. She's checking to make sure we're not cheating. But I haven't even started on the test. I don't know these answers, Hell, I don't even know what the questions are even asking.

"Pogue, you should start your test soon."

I want to tell her that I don't know what I'm doing. "Fuck you." Same thing, right?

"Mr. Perry, I will _not _be disrespected in my class! Get out!"

Caleb gives me a look that would make baby boy piss his pants, but I'm not baby boy. I nod to him and walk out of the classroom. I really could care less if Caleb's upset. He'll give me a lecture about about being a better role model or a student or some shit like that later on.

I leave the door open and walk a few steps away from the door when I hear her heels right behind me. My body turns to find her standing in that way that all women stand in; right foot out and her hip jutted out with folded arms across her chest. Seriously, what the fuck is up with that stance?

"What's wrong with you, Pogue?" She's not the first one to ask me that question. "Is it because of Kate?" But she is the first one to say her name.

The sound of her name coming from someone else's lips makes my heart race and my palms sweat, the ringing in my ears starts and I feel like ripping the door off its hinges. I don't even know why...it's because no one deserves to say Kate's name ever again.

"Kate wouldn't want you to act like thi-

"Don't talk about her like she's dead. She _left _me, she _moved _away from here to put three thousand miles between me and her! She wanted to get rid of me!" How am I supposed to be ok with the fact that the girl I'm in love with can't stand the sight of me?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No! I'm done talking about it, about her, and I'm done talking to you."

God I'm such an asshole.

It's like I can't fucking handle myself, maybe I'm just programmed to be a complete douchebag. I can't hear her my teacher behind me, even in the abandoned hallways. I'm pretty sure I left her there with her mouth still wide open and staring after me. I don't care.

…...

"You're the biggest fucking prick I've ever known."

I know.

"You don't give a rat's ass about anyone but yourself!"

Lies.  
>"You're a fucking mess!"<p>

Tell me something I don't know.

"This is fucking retarded, Pogue, Kate's not worth it."

Too far. "Stop saying her fucking name, Caleb! I'm pretty sure that if Chase had succeeded in taking away Sarah that you would be far from fine!"

"But I wouldn't be doing this!"  
>"Which is what? Surviving? Caleb, you don't even know what the hell you'd be like because you don't fucking know how this fucking feels! Don't try to understand, don't try to sympathize with me, don't lecture me until you know what this shit feels like. And trust me, Caleb, when I say I'm fucking sure you wouldn't be surviving—you'd be dying."<p>

Caleb, fucking idiot. He thinks he can lecture me and everything will be ok again. Fucking dumbass, honestly, what will a lecture do for me? Nothing, that's what.

I walk away before I decide to beat him for saying _her _name. What gives him the right to say her name? I keep arguing and getting myself worked up until I notice I've been walking around the halls all day. I haven't gone to a single class besides the one this morning...shit.

"So, you said you weren't angry," that crazy artist chick says, she's wearing a shirt this time.

"I'm not! I'm just- God, I don't even know what the fuck I am anymore."

She nods. Just. Fucking. Nods. Any sane person would have responded with sympathy. Maybe that's what I needed then though, thinking back on it. I needed someone to not fucking pity me. I needed someone to not make me feel pathetic.

"It's nice not knowing what you feel anymore, isn't it? I think it'd be a nice thing to have. You don't have to worry about hiding your feelings because you don't even know what they are."

Is she on fucking drugs?  
>"No, no it's not. It gives me fucking headaches."<p>

She smiles. She. Just. Fucking. Smiled. At. Me.

"I think you're a lot angrier than you actually think you are," she finally replies.

"Well, I think you're a lot nosier than you should be."

"You're a curious boy, Pogue Perry."

I want to insult her...I really do, believe me. I want to tell her to go fuck herself and leave me alone. But something kept me standing there, something kept me from leaving her presence. I should have left...I really should have. But I didn't-I couldn't.

"Who are you?" I asked her...I need to know her name.

She smiles, and it wasn't like that other smile she gave me, this one was a half smile that made her eyes light up.

"I'm Sofie Silberman." She holds her hand out for me to shake, like this is some formal meeting or something.

And I shouldn't have shaken her hand, my fucking god, I shouldn't have, but my fingers worked of their own accord as they wrapped themselves around her smaller hand.

I'm sure she enjoyed this meeting more than our first. I'm sure she loved hearing me talk like a pitiful little boy. Sofie had a fucking sixth sense: she could sense my vulnerability, she could fucking see through my anger, she could see through everything and she could see my vulnerability. She wanted to taste it, and soon enough she'd sink her teeth so fucking deep into me that I wouldn't know (or care) which way was up or down.


End file.
